


a kiss for good luck

by from the corners (linguale)



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Blow Jobs, Gen, Los Angeles Dodgers, M/M, Making Out, Platonic Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 12:08:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20600525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linguale/pseuds/from%20the%20corners
Summary: It starts seriously enough.Edwin kisses Matt’s cheek before a game like he’s done since their days in Oklahoma City, so they don’t think anything of it; even Will’s so used to the routine that he doesn’t notice it anymore.But then it’s recorded. Rich reacts like it was something scandalous; as a joke, sure, but shouldn’t it be? Guys don’t usually kiss their teammates, usually being the key word.





	a kiss for good luck

**Author's Note:**

> we wish you a merry clinch-mas, and a happy new [squints] bundle of rookies.
> 
> that fateful day was august 10th when edwin smooched matt's face. then it was the series @ marlins when edwin AND will had multihomer games.
> 
> thank you ewidentnie for cheering me on!

It starts seriously enough. 

Edwin kisses Matt’s cheek before a game like he’s done since their days in Oklahoma City, so they don’t think anything of it; even Will’s so used to the routine that he doesn’t notice it anymore. 

But then it’s recorded. Rich reacts like it was something scandalous; as a joke, sure, but shouldn’t it be? Guys don’t usually kiss their teammates, usually being the key word; he’s definitely seen some of the other guys making out or even being just a little too tender for it to be platonic, a touch on the waist a little too long and a bold emotion in the eyes. But that’s none of his business. 

Walker nudges Matt asking what that was all about. “Just a pregame thing. He was on a skid and was trying everything back in triple-A and happened to get a hit with this one.” 

“But he’s not starting today?”

Matt shrugs. Walker makes a weird face and turns away, the subject probably forgotten. Hopefully forgotten. There are other weirder things that happen in the name of superstition, there’s no reason to settle on this one. 

Anyway, it escalates. 

First, predictably, it’s Kiké before he takes his rehab swings one day. “Just to make sure everything goes well, yeah?” He pecks the corner of his mouth and takes off. He’s widely known for being mischievous so Matt doesn’t question it, not even how he missed the cheek altogether. It’s not a big deal. When Chris comes up right after, a million times more hesitant, tips Matt’s cap back to press his lips on his forehead, and follows after Kiké? That’s the odd one, Matt thinks. Kiké and Chris have similarities on the field being utility players and both started as shortstops growing up, but they’re complete opposites as people. That said, where Kiké is boisterous and loud, Chris is shy and soft-spoken. It’s out of character for Chris. 

He brushes it off though; they’re both coming back from injuries, they need all they can get, even if that moves Matt back to OKC. Matt rubs his forehead where Chris’ beard tickled his skin.

This keeps going on. Dugie upgrades their handshake of rubbing his head to kissing it, even the starting pitchers get into it after Dustin gets his cheek and smudges his lenses.

It’s Will that misses his cheek when everything shifts. 

“I thought you heard me coming.” Will says in his normal monotone like it’s obvious. There’s the thundering from the stands, the pump-up music and the announcer going through the lineup sounding in the whole stadium all on top of the regular dugout white noise. There’s no way Matt would’ve been able to hear footsteps when he can’t hear his own thoughts. 

But it’s Will, the guy who had a straight face standing on first after his first hit, who only cracked a smile for his first walk-off homerun. They lived together in Rancho Cucamonga and Matt still doesn’t understand him. 

To be fair, Matt _had_ sensed someone coming up on his right and turned to face whoever it was which changed that peck on the cheek to one the lips. “Sorry, man.” Will says, but doesn’t look apologetic with his signature smug upturn of his lips. Before Matt can say anything else, he turns to Kenta to go through pitching strategy.

He didn’t think anyone caught it; it was so fast and Will turned away like nothing happened, but he catches Russ’ eye, then Cody’s. Russ looks away like he wasn’t watching in the first place, but Cody stares for a few seconds longer and Matt doesn’t like whatever that means. He doesn’t understand Cody either.

It gets worse. 

Will thinks he’s funny now and kisses him before every game. Usually it’s quick, sometimes with a hand on his jaw to tug him down and eyes closed, most recently a flick of the tongue on the seam of his lips. It’s always too fast for Matt to do anything which is for the best. He’s more confused than anything to even begin to react.

Will doesn’t even _need_ good luck. 

He shrugs when Matt calls him out on it. “Maybe not before, but can’t risk it now, can I?”

“You’ve told me so many times that superstition is bullshit.” The elbow to Will’s gut doesn’t have the effect Matt wants it to with the chest protector on. 

“You wanna risk it?” Will looks him in the eye and smirks.

“You know your pitchers would fight me if I tried.”

“Yeah, sure. Can’t risk the team.” He knows Will’s toying with him, but Matt’s the grown-up here; two lousy years that Matt will always hold over him. It’s all a joke, Matt knows this too, because as calm as he is, Will is extremely competitive and wouldn’t do anything that’d even risk a loss, and neither would Matt. Maybe if it was doing something stupid in the offseason or spring training when pennant races don’t exist yet, even if it’s basically a runaway this year. For now it’s fun to joke about it. 

Neither of them point out that that's how all of these superstitions start: unwilling to let go of a dumb activity because it worked once. 

“Whatever.” Will bumps his shoulder and turns to face him. “Come here, I need one more for the road.” 

Matt rolls his eyes, but leans down anyway. Will’s surprisingly a good kisser and he’s not about to deny himself. This time Will has both hands on his jaw, eyes closed, and that’s definitely his tongue pressing the seam of his lips insistently. He lets Will coax his mouth open and turns his head a bit to get more; his willpower has been chipped away to this point, there’s no point in holding back. Will’s mouth is addicting: everything’s soft, warm, and sweet from bubblegum. His hands find the straps of the chest protector on Will’s waist when Matt remembers where they are: halfway through the tunnel, minutes before game time. No one’s been walking through because they’re all in the dugout getting ready where they should be too.

Matt makes a sound before he pulls back and they’re both short of breath. Will being Will, licks his lips like he does between pitches in the batter’s box. Concentrating, contemplating; Matt never knows what he’s thinking. Will gets on his tiptoes for another, just a short press on the mouth this time.

“Done?” Matt asks like it’s that normal. It’s becoming that, isn’t it? Kissing his teammates? They take the last steps to the dugout where noise surrounds them.

Will licks his lips again. “Maybe. Might need some during the game, if you don’t mind.” 

“Are you saying they aren’t as effective anymore?” Will doesn’t say anything, only that smug mouth screaming up at him. Matt rolls his eyes again. “Whatever, you better hit a few homers tonight since you had a few.” Matt says and pats Will’s side before they sit on the back bench to wait for the top of the inning to roll over.

Will smirks. “I’ll take that bet.” 

He ends up a multi-homer night because of course he does, why wouldn’t he. Two walk-off homers within a month aren’t enough for Will Smith.

Things gets kicked up a notch, including the season; they have a solid lead for the division, but it’s mid-August, months deep into the regular season and it’s a grind to get through it all, so the added attention is a welcome distraction. Those who didn’t bother beforehand do a quick peck on head and laugh it off. The recent trend is that the tall teammates like Strip and Corey will kiss the top of his head to denote how small he is. Matt’s not even the shortest; literally all of the catchers are shorter. He at least crosses the six foot mark.

Maybe he shouldn’t expect anything from his teammates anymore after Kersh officially added a fifteen second slot on his starts for a kiss on the cheek and for Matt to kiss the top of his throwing hand. It’s weird, but well within the realm of kind of weird for any Kershaw start. As long as it gets them the win.

A wild pitch hits him in the shoulder when he’s pinch-hitting; inconvenient: yes, but any way to get on base is good. He knows it’s not on purpose but it doesn’t stop that it hurts and will bloom a blotchy purple. He rotates his shoulder a few times during the switch just to make sure everything’s alright. It’s the top of his right shoulder where his shoulder blade meets the joint with the collarbone, so he’ll feel the bone bruising for at least a week. 

“You okay?” It’s Russ this time—what’s with the catchers coming up from behind—with a hand on his back.

“Just a bruise, it’s fine. They didn’t need to check anything.” He rotates it a couple more times and leans on the railing. “I’ll definitely feel it more tomorrow.”

“Tell someone if it’s too much.” He can’t though, or more like it can’t be too much since Chris and Kiké are still out, even if Chris is in Rancho doing his rehab games and set to come back for the next series. Matt shrugs it off, feeling a twinge with the muscles shifting around. “Where’d it hit?” Russ moves next to him when Matt motions to the knob of his shoulder. He’s not surprised when Russ presses his lips there, feather light to not aggravate it more. “To make it feel better, right?” He asks with that kind smile of his.

“What are you, the team dad?” 

Russ laughs. “Oh, you just got the memo? I’m one of several, I’m part of a collection, just like all you rookies are here in bunches.” Russ nudges his side for good measure. “You know nothing’s going to happen to you if you need a couple days off, right? Doc’ll keep in mind if you can throw or not.”

“Really, it’s nothing. I wish it got me solid on the back, but it’s just the shoulder.” Russ gives him a weird look like that Matt didn’t listen to anything he just said. “I’m done for today, so I’ll see how it feels tomorrow. Better?”

“Much.” Russ says, seemingly proud of himself for convincing Matt to be cautious. Tomorrow’s an off day and since they’re flying out when this game finishes, it’s a full day at home and in his own bed. His shoulder will be fine, the bruise will heal eventually to be replaced with other bruises and scrapes that come and go; just another baseball season. 

Sort of. It’s also Matt’s first season in the show, but that’s the least of his concerns.

It shouldn’t feel as routine as it is; a little bit on the cheeks, some on his head, others being brave with a little peck on the lips after Will started it, but no one’s gone as far as him either. Probably because they were alone in the tunnel instead of out in the dugout with everyone else. Maybe because it’s a big boundary to cross, making out with teammates. That’s not to say that the platonic kissing is the norm either, but Edwin pressing his lips to his cheek seems far away now.

It happens again during batting practice which is unconventional; the rest of these firsts has been around gametime for pregame rituals or Will’s additional kisses while they’re waiting to get back on the field. He’s standing behind the backstop watching everyone take batting practice—he’ll join in a bit, he will—when Cody comes next to him. It’s his regular spot, but he’s close enough where their shoulders brush and when he turns to say something, his breath tickles Matt’s neck.

Too close. And it’s too hot for that. It’s September, but it’s L.A. humidity.

“Dude, so like,” Cody tips his head down even closer, “what’s with everyone kissing you?”

Matt’s caught off guard; it’s not like anyone asked since Walker did. “Just a good luck thing.” 

“Yeah?” Cody looks confused. “We weren’t like, doing bad though.” 

He shrugs. “Kind of a joke too. Or more like everyone finds it funny.” 

Cody nods and it’s quiet for a moment. “Can I kiss you then?”

He’s never been asked that either. ”Yeah, come on.” Matt starts to turn to him when he feels a hand in his neck and he tastes the sports drink that Cody took a swig from earlier. It takes a second to realize that yeah, that’s Cody’s tongue in his mouth and that’s why he tastes it. He feels Cody’s other hand around his waist pulling him closer like they weren’t close enough already, but now they’re chest to chest instead of leaning into each other like teenagers with their first kiss.

This is long since Matt’s first kiss. 

Cody’s hands are both on his neck now, not without the one dragging up his chest though. Most times, Matt’s mind goes blank except for an intense focus on one thing, which isn’t the definition of blank at all but that’s how consuming it feels. It tends to flicker from one spot to another, whichever starts to distract him more. The singular thing this time is Cody’s thumb absently rubbing his cheek and flicks to the leg sandwiched between his.

He doesn’t remember when that happened, or when Cody trapped him against the backstop. Fuck, he can’t help thinking that Cody’s _really good_; every point from his mouth on his, the hands and forearms resting on his chest, and down to his knees is on sparking like striking a match. Matt doesn’t know where his own hands are, he just feels shifting muscle under Cody’s flimsy practice shirt. 

Cody pulls away after they hear someone whistle at them. Definitely for the best. He doesn’t look to see who it was, but it sounds like Kiké based on the cackling right after. Matt catalogues the little things: heavy breathing, his glasses pushed to the top of his head—_really_ doesn’t remember when that happened—still tasting sweetness in his mouth, and he’s definitely half-hard which isn’t surprising. It makes him hate how tight he wears his pants with nowhere to disguise it except tucked up in the waistband and hope his shirt covers enough, but it’s not like he can do that _here_. He also hates how Cody smirks and goes off to talk to Joc like nothing happened. 

Matt closes his eyes takes a deep breath to regain his bearings. Think about what to do next. The decision is made for him when an arm links with his and pulls him from the field. He opens his eyes to see Will, so he lets himself be pulled until they’re in the locker room, then shut themselves in a tiny side room. 

“You okay?” Will asks, but he’s looking elsewhere, focused on the carpet and like he doesn’t care what Matt’s response. 

“Thanks for that.”

Will pauses. “Oh. Dude, I was gonna blow you.” He sinks to his knees, hands on Matt’s thighs. “Unless that isn’t a boner looking me in the face.” Will licks his lips—he really needs to stop doing that—and looks up at him. 

Matt contemplates his options, which he can’t believe he’s even considering; wasn’t making out already a weird boundary to cross? He feels hands go to the button of his pants ready to unfasten and yank them down, but they stay still. “This is when you say yes or no.” Now Will decides to be considerate instead of smug and confident like every other time.

Finally he sighs. “When have I ever said no to you?” He wants to believe that he’s accepting his fate, that this was just a natural progression, but he’d be lying to himself. It’s a natural progression, yes, but not for teammates. He’s known since that month of living together in 2016 that there was something about Will he couldn’t put his finger on. Something magnetic, familiar, and he realized recently: addicting. 

“Yeah?” Will smiles, softer around the edges than normal. Matt shrugs, a kind of ‘sure, why not’ move. Will flicks the button loose with the zipper and pulls them down with his underwear, only enough to get his dick free.

“What, no foreplay?” Matt tries to joke, anything to make this situation more comfortable. 

“You need foreplay after that big show with Belli?” Will presses his fingers on his lower belly and presses his lips there before fisting his cock and all the air escapes from Matt’s lungs. “I like when people pull my hair.” He says as he presses his tongue at the slit and pumps him slowly before opening his mouth. Matt’s hands move without him thinking, just following the instruction into Will’s curls; it’s too short except for the top of his head where it’s pushed back from his forehead, so it’s an awkward angle for his hands. 

He waits until Will gets more comfortable, the warmth encompassing more and more of him and getting into a steady rhythm, before he clutches his fingers and pulls Will’s hair tight, moving his mouth a fraction closer. He moans around Matt’s dick and makes Will close his fist tight. It’s too much for Matt to do, this and to remember to how to stand, so he tugs Will away. 

“Hold on.” He thinks he hears Will whine, but he toes off his shoes and kicks his pants off so he can sit in one of the stray chairs with his legs spread: an invitation.

“Am I too much for you?” Will asks as he settles between them. He looks good there, kneeling between his legs with his shoulders against the inside of his thighs. 

Matt decides to be brave, like being half-naked with his hard cock out wasn’t enough. A different kind of brave. “Always.”

Will’s eyes flick to his. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

“You could’ve told me something before I had to pull your dick out.” Will rests his head on one of his thighs. “Not that I want to stop sucking your dick, but we could’ve done like dinner or something before we got to this point.” He fists Matt’s dick again and kisses the tip. “We’ll save that for another day, I guess.” He scoots closer and takes him in again, his lips meeting his fingers before moving in tandem. 

It’s different like this. More intimate somehow now that he can feel Will’s smooth cheeks on his inner thighs, or that his other hand goes under and over the top on his thigh for leverage, his thigh encircled by Will’s arm. The angle with Matt’s hand in Will’s hair is still awkward, he’d rather hold him by the back of the head and have more control, but that’s not what this is about. At least he doesn’t have to concentrate on keeping his knees working without locking them up. Now he can think about how blistering hot and wet Will’s mouth is, how his tongue swirls the tip sometimes when he pulls away, or how he must’ve licked his palm earlier because the glide is smoother. Matt sees the pinch between his brows in concentration and wants to press his fingers there to rub it away. His eyes trail down to his mouth open wide and lips deep pink and pulled tight around his shaft.

Matt has to close his eyes because that image is too much, he tips his head back so he doesn’t get tempted to see that again. Tries to breathe deeply to offset how close he is already. He feels a familiar heat pool in his belly, his body tensing and toes curling. 

“Will, I’m gonna,” Matt can’t put together a coherent thought, so he tugs his hair so he gets the idea to pull off like earlier, but Will resists and keeps his mouth around the head. His hand works quickly on his cock before Matt groans and comes on Will’s tongue. He feels Will swallow around him a couple times, and finally pulls off. Matt feels like he can finally breathe again. 

It takes longer for him to open his eyes; Will hasn’t gotten up, hasn’t really moved actually, his head is back to leaning on Matt’s thigh but his hands are in his lap. He looks really cute and sweet like this, Matt can’t describe how or why. Maybe just how small he’s made himself, enough to fit in the space he’s given and nothing more. He can’t help resting a hand on his exposed cheek, blotchy red from exertion, wipes away the stray tear from his eye when he looks up at Matt. 

“Are you…” It’s only after Matt started that he realizes there’s no delicate way to ask if Will’s hard from giving him a blowjob. “Do you need help?” Close enough, he guesses.

Will blinks a few times, chuckles, and shakes his head. “No, it takes a little more than that for me. You’ll find out.”

He likes the sound of that, the idea that there’s more than this time. “Oh?”

Will’s smile is sweet again. “Yeah. My dick needs some romancing. Blowing someone isn’t that much of a turn on. You’re welcome, by the way.” 

He isn’t sure if that’s supposed to be for the blowjob itself or from when he said thanks earlier for getting him away from the diamond, but he doesn’t ask. It’s not important.

“You still wanna do dinner? Maybe our next day off, whenever that is.” Matt asks. He wishes he was more prepared for this conversation; he never knows what day it is or who they’re playing next, because all he’s ever worried about is today’s game and will concern himself with tomorrow when the game’s over. Instead, he’s coming down from an orgasm, still without pants, and trying to piece his thoughts together. His moment of bravery panned out, Will says he wants this to keep going. Better, just them instead of the whole team playing a weird game with Matt. 

He tries to twirl his fingers in Will’s hair, but it’s too short. Will still leans into his fingers though. “I think Monday? Whenever the travel day is.” Will purses his lips in thought. “But yeah, dinner sounds good. We can see what’s around when we land and go from there.” 

Matt nods and it’s quiet. Will’s moved a hand so it’s on Matt’s now, the one that tried to twist knots in his curls. The skin contact is nice, he feels the calluses on Will’s palm that mirror his own from a life of baseball; if he lets his mind drift far enough, he can imagine the indents where the ball’s stitching would press in his fingertips. 

He doesn’t know much time passes, but Will sighs and starts to stand up. “I’d say we should keep this under wraps, but someone’s probably right outside listening in.” He brushes off the imaginary dust from his legs and tosses over Matt’s pants. “I should head out to the bullpen, work with Tony before the game.” Will’s about to open the door back to the clubhouse. “I’ll still probably need to kiss you during games. You know, gotta maintain superstitions and all.” 

Matt’s in the midst of pulling his pants up and laughs. “Of course. Even though you’ve been in a little slump since what, Players Weekend?” 

“Maybe that’s your fault for not being an effective good luck charm anymore.” Will says as he steps away from the door to shove Matt’s shoulder and when he rights himself, Will tugs him down by the collar for a gentle press on his mouth, something Will hasn’t done for a while. It’s longer than the first time though, this one chaste and meaningful instead of for fun. Will says a quick “see you later” on his lips, steps back, and finally goes to meet with the pitchers, leaving Matt alone with his thoughts, his belt, and his shoes. 

It’s somehow no surprise that Will goes two-for-three.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to my sibling to read it over and gave an alternate and better summary of: "wouldn't it be cool... if we kissed.... and made out..... for good luck......... haha I mean platonically ....unless?"
> 
> the only game i fudged was the hbp bc it was actually a pinch-hit single, but i needed another reason for smooches.
> 
> pls don't tell me if you find a typo, i am small and i am tired.


End file.
